


Mosaics

by teaandcharcoal



Series: Trans!Dave [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, OT3, Polyamory, Snippets, Trans Character, collection, trans!Dave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2018-06-02 03:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6548476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandcharcoal/pseuds/teaandcharcoal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little bits and pieces of your lives together, all put together to try to capture your love<br/>A collection of short stories in the trans!Dave universe, but you probably won't have to read the rest of the collection to understand them. Various combinations of john/dave/karkat in short snippets. (Marked as complete, may continue to expand)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Interruptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt
> 
> lbk-princen asked: Here's a prompt: John's ace af and loves teasing/cockblocking Dave and karkat when they try to diddle just to be a dick to his bfs

Your heart races as you run your hand along his thigh. Those leggings do you every favor in the world, because you can feel every twitch of his muscles. They may not be in quite the same places as they would be if he were human, but at least the rhythmic contracting is a good sign of how turned on he is.

“Oh Dave…” he breathes softly.

“I’m here,” you reply, leaning in and kissing him tenderly.

He throws his arms around you, nails digging into the soft flesh of your back. His breaths are hot and short as they break against your cheek.

The doors burst open and both of you startle. You push yourself off him and sit upright, doing your best to straighten your clothes.

“Sorry guys, am I interrupting?” John asks, smiling.

“Nope, nope, not at all!” Karkat replies.

“Cool.” John flops down next to you and throws his am over your shoulder.

He leans over and kisses you on the cheek and you smile. You exchange a glance with Karkat and he smiles back. This is the third time this week and you _know_ he’s doing it on purpose, but you can’t really stay mad at John. 


	2. Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on anonymous prompt on tumblr: Anonymous asked: Hm, maybe apply your beautiful and perfect trans dave headcanon to his current thoughts on heteronormativity and toxic masculinity-which is naturally sorted out with the help of smooches because, I mean, duh.

The one thing no one tells you about living on a meteor in the void of paradox space is that it’s hard to tell when you’re supposed to be awake and when you’re supposed to be asleep, which makes getting out of bed a real pain in the ass.

But you have to get up and go. Because when you’re alone you start thinking. And when you start thinking…

You slip out of bed and grab the hem of your shirt. No. What’s the point in binding anymore? Everyone fucking knows at this point. You told Rose ages ago. Karkat and Gamzee caught you in the shower that one time, and everyone else noticed how at the ripe old age of 15 your voice had yet to break. Even Karkat had started sounding like a man. Karkat.

At least the god tier pajamas are unusually supportive.

You stumble out of your room to go get coffee. Or food. Or something.

But unfortunately you’re too busy staring at your stupid tiny feet and walk right into Karkat.

“Dave?” He asks, with his manful deep voice. Fuck him with something rough and sandpapery. 

“Yo, Karkat.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yep. Just fuckin peachy.”

“Dave…” He gently puts a hand on your shoulder. “That was kind of fucking rhetorical. Now we’re gonna get you some fucking hot chocolate and talk about this. Man to man.”

For a moment you consider spilling everything that’s bothering you, but all you can actually let out is “okay.”

“I’ll meet you in your block.”

“Okay.” You slink back to the pile of cloth you’d just dragged yourself from and slip back into the mess of sheets and clothing.

A few minutes later, Karkat is back with two steaming mugs. He sits on the edge of the bed and hands you one. It’s Rose’s, completely covered in pink and purple kittens.

You drag yourself up into a sitting position and ask, “Can I have the other one?”

He shrugs and gives you the plain white cup instead. “What’s all this about?”

“It’s just… I don’t know if I’m cut out to be a guy.”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“There’s just all of these things that I have to do and I don’t know if I can pull it all off. Look at me. I’m 5-2, weigh 160, and I’m nothing like heroic enough to make up for it.”

“The hell does that have to do with anything? Dave, if you’re a man, you’re a man.”

“But I- what if I’m not? What if I’m just trying to feel special?”

He stares at you for a while, as if trying to understand your gender roles, so fucking alien to him. He chose to be a boy when he spun his cocoon right next to Gamzee’s, and if he changed his mind their society was all over that shit.

“Even if that’s the case, you’re still Dave to me. And who’s gonna hold you to those stupid standards? Rose? Yeah right. And we’ve still got a year before you have to face anyone else. And also, you’re a fucking god. You can do what you want, and they’ll just have to deal with it. You can take your time to make your peace with that, just like you did to accepting the bi thing.” He takes a sip of his coca with an air of finality.

You smile down at yours for a moment, taking in your reflection.

“Hey Karkat?”

He turns to look at you and you lean in for a kiss.

“Thanks.”


	3. watercolors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pinkstarpirater asked: Fic idea prompt thingawhawhoosits: John getting kisses from Karkat and Dave.

When your glasses are gone, it’s all just colors. Red, pink, and white. Grey and black with bits of yellow. You don’t know if you’d rather the lights were out. Then it would all be even, but you’d miss the warmth of the colors.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Dave whispers. In spite of his cool tone, his words still sound red as his text, bright and strong and so damn alive. His forehead slides against your cheek, and his pink lips rub against your cheek.

“John I-“ Karkat’s skin is tough, leathery. But its grey is a smooth one, completely hairless. His words are the same, and now that the bite has left his voice it’s so soft. So sweet.

“You what?” You ask.

His body tenses slightly, and Dave reaches over you to run his fingers down Karkat’s side.

There’s something wrong about lying between the two of them. They’re dating. They’ve been dating. But they want you here. Not for an hour, not for a night. They want you there.

“You go first,” Karkat says.

Dave begins pulling his hand back, and his elbow slides over your belly. But instead of drawing away completely, he reaches up to your cheek and gently presses. It takes a moment for you to realize he wants you to turn your head.

When you do, you realize you’re too close to see much, but that doesn’t matter because something tells you to close your eyes. Then you feel his lips on yours. They’re soft and light, feel even pinker than they look. It’s not magical. Your heart doesn’t stop. You don’t even start getting hard. But it’s nice, and he smells good. Like summer and the sun even after so many years on a dark meteor.

He pulls far enough away that you can see him. He gives you a rare smile, and you don’t know you’ve ever seen eyes so bright. That is, until you turn to look at Karkat. His eyes are the same red as Dave's, show the same weight of experience. But Karkat's show so much more passion. You can read each thought that goes through his mind in each twitch of his pupil.

And you have to laugh, because he’s nervous and it’s really cute. Oops, and that’s annoyance, but there’s Karkat.

Your Karkat now. You place one hand on each side of his face and lean in to kiss him. He melts in your hands, letting you lead. Maybe it’s because he’s so used to kissing Dave that he just reacts like quicksilver. This time you pull away, and Karkat’s face is the color of a misty dawn.

You see yourself reflected in his eyes until he blinks and looks over you to smile at Dave.

“Yeah,” You say, “I think this will work.”


	4. Schoolfeeding for Humans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Originally for the 4/22/15 update. A bit of education is needed before Karkat can understand “Dick Hopscotch.” But as always, he ends up doing most of the talking.

“Now why the fuck is that elongated nosebeast face in any way superior to that other shape? It seems like if you have to do the whole skip-hop pattern it would just be way easier. See? Even The Mayor has lost interest!”

“Pssh, Karkat, you just don’t get it.”

The Mayor tottered over to the box of chalk and started to nibble on a green piece, which you took to mean he was mostly indifferent but also somewhat perplexed by the new skotch-hop field. Or whatever Dave had called it. He said this next one was going to “blow your mind.” You had assumed he was going to make it super difficult or maybe spell something weird but-

Well, maybe he was right. Maybe you still just don’t “get it” yet.

“Maybe I would if you would explain your shit to me instead of just mocking me for knowing less than a tiny-headed grub just crawling out of the pile of shit it hatched in!”

“Wait, you guys hatch in shit?”

“Not troll grubs, tiny-heads. The kind we eat.”

“Oh, so your food just grows in shit. That makes it waaay better.” He smirks, but there’s no real bite in his voice. He jumps across the new field.

“Seriously, though, is that supposed to be something?”

“Try it from this angle,” He says. He holds his hand out and you take it, even though you can fucking stand on your own.

He knows this. You know he knows. But you like it when he’s nice. And his hands are kinda chubby and soft. But as soon as you’re up you let go, and he leads you to the ear side. 

“Still don’t get it.”

“Really? Come on Karkat. I thought you of all people would recognize it. Hang on, what if I-“

He hopped through the field, over to The Mayor, who was on his second green piece of chalk.

“Come on, man," he says "You’re worse than Terezi. We oughta just start alchemitizing this stuff by the ton if y’all are gonna keep up like that.”

He held out his hand and The Mayor held out the box. Or at least that’s what you’re assuming happened. At the moment you’re kinda distracted by- Damn, those pants are not fair, especially since his cape rides up just enough when he bends over like that.

“Okay, good. Still got white. Now watch and learn.” He knelt back down, drawing droplets coming out of the nose.

“Oh my god, I know they drink milk. I’m not four!”

He looks up at you, lowers his sunglasses and raises an eyebrow. “Karkat. It’s a dick.”

“Funny, I knew your pictures were shit, but I didn’t realize your own self-portrait would be so bad.”

“Hilarious. Karkat, I know it’s minimalistic, but you really ought to recognize a fucking penis.”

“Wait that’s supposed to be a-? Dave they look nothing like that!”

“What do you mean?”

“Well for starters, it’s not nearly tapered enough at the end, even if you’re going for a red blood. Unless are these two nobby things supposed to be the accessory tentacles? And where the heck is the rest of the sheath?”

“What?”

It’s hard to say, but from the angle of his head, he might be looking at your crotch. “The fuck do you have down there?” He is. He definitely is.

Wow, it’s suddenly really warm. You must be passing through a desert dream bubble. That’s the only logical explanation. There’s only one way to get out of this without seeming like a pupa.

“Give me some fucking chalk. Red or orange, don’t wanna be here all day.”

Dave hands you red, but not a nice respectable burgundy. No, he gives you bright fucking candy red.

You debate for a moment if he’s coming on to you before you snatch the chalk from his hand.

Focus, Karkat, you tell yourself, Focus. This is just like in schoolfeeding when you had the reproductive test.

Your hand is shaking, so your drawing is a little shittier than usual, but all the major stuff is there. And you- you are probably the same color as the crude drawing. Dave watches with interest, standing over you. Goddamn, he’s taller than you as it is and now he’s like a fucking tower. You swallow your nervousness and rub your sweaty palms on your jeans. Then you tell him- well, the most basic stuff. In the middle of your lecture, The Mayor offers you a second reprieve by sitting and starting to draw… something that kind of goes over the edge of yours. But Dave was really interested so you kind of have to continue. And then when you finish, he has the post asinine question ever.

“So you guys have both?”

“What do you mean, both?”

“Well maybe humans have half? I don’t know. But bo- like half of the population has a dick and the other half has a- well a nook.”

“That’s-”

For a moment you see… is that nervousness? Goddamn, you are in here sweating like a rustblood on trial next to a drawing of genitals that are the same color as your own why didn’t you switch the chalk, and Dave has the gall to be nervous. You were gonna say weird, but it suddenly dies in your throat. So you blurt out the next thing that jumps into your stupid fucking head.

“Super fucking inefficient! I mean, you can make way fewer disgusting pink wigglers that way and, thank the Condesce for that, but fuck.”

And at that, Dave laughs. You don’t know you’ve heard him do that before. It’s not a chuckle, or a snort, but a full on laugh. And it sounds warm.

Wait, did that even make sense?

You have no time to puzzle it through because then he says, “You know, Karkat? You’re actually pretty cool.”

You smile back and he holds out his hand. You wipe yours on your jeans one more time, pretending like it’s to get the chalk off when you’re pretty sure he knows you’re sweaty. You grab on and he helps you up again. This time he doesn’t let go.


	5. Queer Quadrants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreamwidth kink meme prompt: This tumblr post (http://memviv.tumblr.com/post/142316743149/karkat-is-not-quadromantic) discusses the idea that Karkat might not experience quadrant romance like other trolls. (warning: contains q slur) I'd like a story where he comes to terms with it.

It’s hard to say when exactly you irreparably became completely and totally fucked. Falling for Dave was like most other types of falling. Your balance starts to shift, you automatically try to correct it, it slowly dawns upon you that you can’t correct, and then suddenly you’re at the foot of the stairs covered in bruises and probably crying.

Well, at least this time you don’t have bruises.

Though to be fair, what you do have is much worse. You’d thought you were over this, this stupid phase that younger you went through; that laughable horrific time when you wanted Terezi in every quadrant, where you thought you had black feelings for John but you also wanted to cuddle him and run your fingers through his hair. But no, here you are. Two years later and nothing’s changed.

At first you want to blame Dave. You want to blame him for being so kind and gentle while also being so hot while also being kind of an obnoxious prick. But why, why, _why_ did he have to be one person? You’re not sure if the fact that he’s human makes this all slightly better or even more laughably worse.

Maybe it’s neither. Rose and Kanaya are in a perfectly healthy, normal matespritship. No black feelings, and anything that might be considered pale is probably more just Kanaya’s habit of mothering everyone she comes into contact with.

But Dave? Dave is… He’s…

Well, he thinks you’re asleep for one thing. It is getting late (you think? To be honest, it’s hard to tell). His hand is buried in your hair, right between your horns, and your head is resting on his lap. You wish so badly for it to feel more sexual, that there was a nice, red, reason you were enjoying having your head on his thighs and that all you could think about was slipping all the way between them. Or else have found that concept horrendous, instead of just seeming like pictures or smells of tasty food after finishing a massive meal. But no, you’re disgustingly content with just lying there. You want to never move for the rest of eternity. Fuck this game, fuck the new session, fuck your body and its stupid needs.

And he seems content too. He softly hums something sweet and he’s fucking _petting_ your hair like you’re some house creature, and you’re barely helping, purring like you have a small pain-driven plant decapitating device in your chest. You’re so comfortable, so happy, and yet you feel so guilty.

“I know you’re awake.” He says eventually. “Your ears are doing that twitchy thing you do when you’re thinking about something. Wanna talk about it?”

You open your eyes and look up at him. He’s put his shades on the side table and is now looking down at you softly with something that’s not quite pity. You feel like he’s shoved his touch stumps right up through your thoracic endodermic shell and was squeezing your heart.

“No. Yes? I don’t know, Dave.”

“Come on, Karkat, whatever it is you can talk about it. After all, we’re- we’re-“ he pulls his hand away from your head. “Yeah, okay maybe we should talk about that at some point too. Unless that _is_ what’s bugging you.”

You grip the fabric of his leg covers. “I’m sorry,” you say softly.

“Don’t be. You- I guess we all feel the way we feel. And we have to learn to deal with that.”

“Maybe, but my feelings are a fucking joke.” You sit up. “A horrific prank played upon me by paradox space. Hey, Karkat, you wanna be a loathsome freak, right? You want your pitiful existence to end in tragedy, right?  Well if your blood color wasn’t bad enough, now that you’ve hit puberty you have to deal with- with-“ You let out a shuddering sigh and feel tears begin to well up. “With _this._ With all these fucking feelings! _”_

“But what feelings, Karkat? I- Please tell me. Please, I need to know.” There’s a deep sincerity in his voice, desperation. His eyebrows are scrunched up and he’s looking at you so intensely. You think maybe he’s trying to find a hint of _anything._ But you don’t think you’ve ever heard him beg “What are you thinking? What are you feeling?”

“Everything,” you say with a sob. “I- I can’t tell between quadrants, Dave. I thought when I found the right people it would just fall into place and I’d be able to understand, to actually really feel what I was always supposed to feel. But I don’t. I just don’t.”

“But what _are_ you feeling?” He demands.

“I want you.” You say. Tears are flowing down now, dripping from your cheeks. You know your face is turning that despicable red it always does when you cry. “That’s all I know. I want you, and I want you to be my everything. My matesprit, my moirail, my kismesis, fuck even my auspice against the world! And I can’t pick. I wish I could, I should, but I just can’t.”

He’s silent, his eyes wide, mouth open in a small, silent ‘o.’

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, looking down.

“Don’t be.” He takes your chin and turns your head towards him before leaning in for a kiss.

Oh. That’s all you can think: oh. The kiss, your precious first kiss, is awkward and brief. All shock and relief, but none of that passionate pity you were meant to- that you were supposed to feel.

“I want this too,” Dave says softly. “I want _you_ too. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think that you’d want me, that you’d be willing to put up with my weird human drives. But Karkat, you know what this means?”

“That I’m a failure as a troll?”

“That you love like a human.” He takes your hands in his. “After watching these movies with you, all the weird toll ideas of romance, I really think, like, really _really_ think what you’re describing is the same stuff we humans feel. Or at least, maybe it’s a lot like the way I feel about you.”

“So… you think I love you?”

“You know, usually it’s put in the form of _‘I_ think I love you.’ But yeah.”

“But do you?”

He hesitates for a moment, but then looks you straight in the eyes. “Yeah.”

You kiss him again. It’s hard to say why, but you feel like you need to. Or perhaps you just really, _really_ want to. This time there’s more happiness, more… love? The word feels strange to even think.

“What does this make us?” You ask.

“I mean, generally we’d call people like us boyfriends.”

“b-bufriglend.” Wow. You are one smooth motherfucker. Not.

“Oh my god, Karkat.” He laughs. “Okay, repeat after me: boy.”

You roll your eyes “Boy.”

“Friend.”

“Friend.”

“Boyfriend.”

Ugh, why does he have to patronize you? Asshole, all you have to say is- “Burfnghl,” it comes out.

Okay, maybe he has a point. And maybe you’re ridiculous, but that would make two of you.

Dave laughs, loud and unguarded. “God, you’re fucking adorable.”

You take a deep breath. Okay, Karkat, you can do this. “Boyfriends. We’re boyfriends.”

The smile he shows you brings the sweetest moonlight into the furthest ring.

 


	6. Shower time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JohnDave, getting used to one another's bodies.

“I think,” John says one day while the two of you are snuggling on the couch, “it might help me get comfortable with sex if I get used to seeing you guys naked in a non-sexual context. Just to get me used to the nudity thing”

Large, black walls suddenly zoom up around you. The overpowering sound of a men’s choir fills the hall, chanting ominously in Latin. John stands on the bench high above you, dressed in black judge’s robes with a powdered wig, and that’s a lot more intimidating than it should be because _powdered wigs._ Behind him, faceless hooded figures stare down; judging you, staring into your very soul. You need to plead your case and just hope the court has pity on your soul.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you say.

Goddammit, Dave.

“I’m glad you’re alright with it,” John says, visibly relieved. “Karkat and I have been doing it a little, but I’ve been kind of putting off asking you because, well… I was worried you’d think it was weird.”

“Nope, it makes total sense, man. Getting used to each other and shit’s definitely the way to go. It’ll be great!

He smiles. “Alright, how about tomorrow we take a shower together tomorrow?”

“Yeah, um, sounds good.”

“Hey, Dave?”

“Yeah?”

He leans over and kisses you. It’s soft, sweet, and gentle. But all you can feel is your own guilt and dread.

“Thanks,” He says. “Anyway, I’ve gotta start making dinner. Shout if you need anything, honey.”

“Yeah… See you soon.”

You look down at yourself. Your chest, still not quite flat, your flabby stomach… Yeah, this’ll be great. Just great.

\---

You sit in the bathroom and wait for Dave. There’s nowhere else to go, so you’re just on the toilet, wearing nothing but a fluffy blue bathrobe. It feels almost like you’re waiting for a doctor back on earth, but you keep telling yourself that instead of being poked and prodded you’ll probably get caressed. That’s better, right? Right. You’ve left your glasses in the other room, and Dave’ll leave his. You’re hoping that’ll give you both a little bit of extra security. That it’ll soften it. …You think. You hope.

Honestly, you’re not sure why you’re so nervous. You’re pretty happy with the way you look, and it’s just Dave. You’re the same people, you still love each other. It’s just a lack of covering, a little more vulnerability.

But what if he hates what he sees? What if you’re still too thin? What if he thinks you’re too hairy? What if-?

“Hey, um, are you ready?” you shout through the door. It’s probably best to just get things over with.

“Yeah, uh. Why don’t you get in first, babe? Like get the temperature right?”

“Got it!” you say, even though you know full well one of the best things about this new universe is that you’ve alchemized showers that are actually fucking reasonable.

Taking a deep breath, you drop your robe and step into the tub. You turn the tap and, poof! Perfect temperature. You love technology. You put your face right in the warm spray, getting your hair nice and wet.

The door squeaks open and shuts again. Then there’s a faint rattle as the shower curtain is pulled back. You begin to turn, but then Dave throws his hands over your eyes.

“Don’t look,” he says softly. “Not yet. Let’s take this nice and slow, okay? Despite what Karkat says, I can be romantic as fuck when I want, so boom. Just, keep your eyes closed for a bit, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Thank you.”

His hands slide from your face to your shoulders. You feel pressure as he stretches up to kiss your neck and you let out a contented sigh.

“You are drop-dead gorgeous,” he whispers, “I hope you know that. I mean, fucking look at this shit.” His hands slide around to your front, his fingers splaying across your chest. “You, my man, are fucking ripped.”

“Dave,” you say with a nervous giggle.

“There is barely an ounce of fat on you, okay? I don’t know what the fuck happened those years on the meteor, but _goddamn._ I hope you realize how far you’ve gone from the short chubby kid. You are one hundred and ten percent man tree and I wanna climb you so bad.”

You tense as he slips further south. That sounded pretty sexual and you’re not ready for him to- but he just settles his hands on your hips. And, well, you can live with this. He traces your hip bones with his fingers. You sigh softly. Actually, this attention is kind of nice. Let it never be said you don’t enjoy being held.

“Hard to believe you didn’t know what the hell you were doing when you cloned yourself. You’re the sexiest human I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“Am I still second to Karkat, then?” You ask jokingly.

“Hmm… that one’s a close call.” He traces a finger along your spine and you shiver. “I guess it depends what kind of mood I’m in. Honestly, his butt is a little better, but you’ve got some niiice beef up here.” He gives your shoulders a little bit of a rub, and you melt into him.

“But most of all, John…”

“Hm?”

“I’m honestly kind of jealous.”

You open your eyes, but manage to stop yourself before you can glance backwards. You just stare at the silver showerhead.

“I’ve wanted to be with you for a long time now, dear God I wanna be with you, but it’s also like… I wanna be you. I never had that feeling with Karkat, but you… John, I would give anything to have a body like yours.”

“Dave, can I-?”

“Yeah. I think you can look now.”

You here a soft splash as he takes a step backwards and then for the first time you turn to face him. Yeah, shit’s a little blurry, but you can still see well enough. He stands straight, arms down at his sides and chin tipped at a defiant angle. You see the softness of his eyes first. He always is able to catch you and hold you there, and to your surprise you see fear. He’s as worried as you are, maybe even more so. Oh, fuck, of course he is, John. God dammit, why didn’t you think of that? You’re such an idiot! But he’s giving you this chance, he’s offering himself to you and you know you can’t reject him. Not now.

 So you let your eyes start so slip down. You’ve been kind of curious and, well, you’ve come to understand how rare of a treat this is. And- oh wow, boobs. Anything you were thinking before is gone. Karkat has mentioned a couple of times how much he loves Dave’s chest, but you weren’t expecting them to be quite _that_ full. You’re not even sure you could fit one completely in your hand, but you’re not sure Dave will ever let you try. His milky white skin is perfectly uniform and smooth, except for where it tapers off at his nipples, but even those are smooth and soft from the warmth of the shower. They’re such a nice, soft pink. And then, under that, you see the thinning of his waist. It’s surprisingly well-defined; you never would have guessed. And then he flairs out again, his soft belly covered in stretch marks leading down to wide hips. He doesn’t seem to trim or anything down there, and his lower stomach and upper thighs are also covered in wiry pale hair.

When you look back up, you realize his poker face is slipping even fruther. He’s gnawing on the inside of his cheek, and staring off to the side. For a moment, you wonder how much he can really see right now. It fully dawns on you how vulnerable he’s made himself, and how much trust he must be placing in you.

He expects you to reject him. He expects you to think he’s hideous, or maybe to start associating him with femininity. But honestly, he’s anything but. He’s _Dave._ He’s one of your best friends and loves of your life. And he’s as perfect on the outside as he is inside.

You place your hands on his shoulders and gently press your forehead to his. “Thanks.”

“Pssh, for what?”

“For trusting me. For sharing this.” You close your eyes for a moment and just stay there.

“H-hey, don’t fall asleep on me, man!” Dave says.

“Heh, I’m not,” you straighten back up. “I just love you.”

He looks away. “Well you should, I’m damn lovable.”

You’re going to pretend that means “I love you too.” You turn away and begin reaching for your shampoo, only to feel his arms wrap around you. He holds you tightly, and you feel the entire length of his gorgeous body press up against you from behind.

“Thanks, John.” He says. His voice is thick with emotion he’s trying desperately not to show.

“Of course. You know, for as much praise as you give me, you’re pretty damn handsome yourself.”

You place your hands over his, and pretend not to hear the relieved sobs behind you. You’re pretty sure he’d like it better that way.

 


	7. the multi-legged-dirt-noodle's dilemma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this idea originally came from Rogue (http://silver-tongues-blog.tumblr.com/), but she said she's not much of an author so I took this and ran with it. 
> 
> Kind of pre-davekat, where they're basically dating but they haven't actually said anything yet because they are Bad at Communication.

You’re beginning to think Dave doesn’t have a goddamn posture pole. You’ve already decided that instead of being made of muscle and tendons like normal creatures, humans must have been fabricated out of some bizarre polymer that stretches like the traction rings on a scuttlebuggy. Or at least Dave is. For all the time Kanaya spends with Rose, she hasn’t told you if this particular trait is something common to their species.

Although maybe Rose, with her desire to be refined, doesn’t just flop in bizarre or uncomfortable-looking positions the way Dave does. His favorite position when you first started watching movies, for some untenable reason, was sitting sideways with one leg thrown over the arm of the loungeplank. But over the course of your… whatever the fuck this is, he’s gotten more and more creative. Recently he’s taken to curling up to be half his natural height, so he can keep all of his limbs tucked onto the comfort squares while he lies sideways with his cheek pressed against your bony thigh. You can’t imagine how it’s comfortable, especially with the way it sets his sunglasses askew, and yet he stays there. He’s willing to sit- er, lay there for a two and a half hour romcom with complaints exclusively about the movie’s content as opposed to his own comfort.

Even if you don’t understand it, you can’t say you really mind. After all, he’s warm and his cheek is soft and after so long living in fear it just feels so _nice_ to be this close to another person, even if they are a weird alien. It’s just that sometimes every now and then during certain parts of certain movies it can get a little… awkward to have him that intimately close to you. Like, um, right now. When the camera is zooming right in to one of the male lead’s horns, focusing more and more on the bright red segment and then cutting to the enamored face of the other male, who had been flipping between red and pale for him for _so long_ and then male two reaches out and gently touches lead one’s hair, moving closer and closer. It’s such a common trope and a tame one at that. But with having Dave so close even that feels…

“Okay, seriously,” he says, cutting off your train of thought “Why the fuck do so many movies have like delicate hair-touches? Like, your hair is just hair, right? Wait, shit, unless… bugs don’t have hair, so do you guys have, like, millions of tiny antennas or something? Fuck, it is that, isn’t it? That’s why you all have spiky hair, isn’t it? But I’m pretty sure I’ve seen it getting longer, so does it just fuckin’ grow out as part of puberty or something? Or do you have to cut it to keep it short? Fuck, that would hurt like a bitch. Goddamn your species is fucking hardcore. I bet it’s like chopping off the tip of your finger or some shit. Like ‘well, Jimmy, picture day is coming up. Better cut off one of your goddamn knuckles so you can look all fuckin spiffy. Grandma’s gonna love seeing you with your little finger nubs!’”

“Dave, what the fuck are you talking about?” You ask.

“Did you guys get out of picture day? I guess your lusus…es wouldn’t have appreciated them that much, huh?”

“For your information, my lusus was a great lover of art!”

“Sure, buddy,” He sits up. “But for real, though, which is it? Do some of you just have real short antennas or do you cut ‘em?”

You scowl. “They’re not antennae. Which, by the way, is the plural for that word.”

“Sorry my planet blew up before I finished middle school,” he scoffs.

“Hair is just fucking hair, okay?”

“Then why do your movies focus on it so goddamn much?”

“It’s not about the hair, dumbass!”

“So what? Is it horns? Is it like a super sexy erogenous zone?”

“No!” you snap. God, you can feel your cheeks beginning to heat up. Why does he make you have these conversations?! “Fuck, Dave, you’ve managed to maintain a dazzling level of cultural insensitivity for the amount of these movies you watch!”

“So…?”

You sigh. “Look, it’s not necessarily sexual, just… intimate. I mean, they’re sensitive, so you can’t just let _anyone_ touch them. It has to be someone you really trust.”

“Because you’re a total murder race. Right, right. But you have super sensitive feely things right on the top of your heads? That are literally brightly colored to draw attention to them? Like, that seems like a major oversight in the design plan you got there.”

“It’s not the whole thing, idiot. The yellow and orange parts are basically just like claws. You can feel if stuff bumps against them, but it’s only the root that’s really sensitive. It’s just like the… shit, what do you call it? Nail… bed I think? At least that’s what highbloods say.”

“Really? Huh.”

He sits back for a minute and looks down at his hand, and even though he’s trying to keep a straight face you can tell by the slight twitch of his lips and crease in his brow that he’s thinking. “So it’s more like you’ve got little rings of ‘aw fuck yeah, touch me please’ on your scalp.”

“I wish you wouldn’t fucking put it that way, but…I guess?”

“Uh-huh. And your hair is just hair.”

“Yes, Dave, we’ve gone over this.”

“So, like, how come you don’t pop a boner every time your hair shifts?”

You shake your head. “You’ve said a lot of dumb things, but that is the stupidest pile of shit I’ve ever-“ But now you feel it. Your hair does, actually, rub right up against the roots of your horns. And it doesn’t feel nice, it’s just _awkward._ How have you never thought of this before? Oh God, it’s been there the entire fucking time and you have never goddamn noticed.

“Wait, fuck is that actually happening? Shit dude, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s not arousing, bile-brain!” As you snap at him, you lean forward and feel it again. It makes you want to pull the neck of your sweater up over your head, but you know he’d just take that as confirmation.

“Uh huh,” you see the start of a smirk on his face.

“Look, do you ‘pop a boner’ as you so eloquently put it every time your leg coverings move slightly? No!” You freeze and look at him. Shit, what if he _does?_

“What? No! That’s gross, Karkat. Not to mention no one would ever get anything done.”

“Exactly!” You run your fingers through your hair, pointedly avoiding your horns. “It’s more like when you think about your taste slug and realize there’s no comfortable place for it to be in your squawk gaper!”

Dave pauses for a moment, and then groans.

“What?”

“Shit, I just translated that from Karkat into English. And now I don’t know what to do with my tongue. Fuck you, man.”

“Well fuck you too!” You turn your head sharply away and your fucking _hair_ moves again.

At least for the moment you can take some satisfaction in knowing that despite Dave’s polymer-like anatomy, he won’t be able to sit fully comfortably until he actually manages to focus on the movie again. Of course, neither can you, but you’ll take your victories where you can get them.


End file.
